


A Spoonful of Sugar

by BearlyWriting



Series: RominWeek2021 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Blackmail, Dark Tim Drake, Day 2: Drugged, Day 2: Office Setting, Day 2: blackmail, Filming, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Object Insertion, Romin Week 2021, Top Tim Drake, but for a good reason, i forgot about that for some reason, no capes AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyWriting/pseuds/BearlyWriting
Summary: ‘“Fine,” Roman says, stiffly, “just tell me what you want.”Tim doesn’t answer right away. He’s had plenty of time to think about what he wants, but he can’t resist drawing out the moment of anticipation. He wants Roman to stew. He wants Roman to suffer.“What did you have them do?” he finally asks. “My brothers? Tell me what you did to them.”’For the RomanRobin week prompts: Corporate/Office, Drugged, and Blackmail.
Relationships: Past Dick Grayson/Roman Sionis, Past Roman Sionis/Jason Todd - Relationship, Tim Drake/Roman Sionis
Series: RominWeek2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211252
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40
Collections: Romin Week 2021





	A Spoonful of Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please check the tags! Although Tim is doing things for the right reasons he is much darker than in canon here! I hope you enjoy :)

The first time, when Jason corners him at a gala, looking a little frantic, and tells him to stay the fuck away from Roman Sionis, Tim doesn’t put much thought into it. He’s thirteen and flush with a strange pride at having gained the man’s attention in the first place. They only manage to talk for a few minutes, but it’s enough time for Roman to compliment him on the sharp mind he’d heard so much about and push a glass of champagne into Tim’s hand with a conspiratorial wink.

Except, Tim doesn’t get to take so much as a sip before Jason is there, grabbing at his shoulder and pulling him away without so much as an ‘excuse me’. Then, the moment they’re clear of most of the party guests, Jason slaps the champagne out of his hand and practically growls, “What the fuck are you doing?” into Tim’s face.

Tim blinks back at him, confused and a little annoyed. Jason, of all people, can hardly get on his case about underage drinking. Jason’s always been a little rebellious and it’s only gotten worse recently. For the last few months, Jason has been practically insufferable, snapping at anyone who dares try to talk to him, sulking in his room for days on end, and letting his grades slide. Bruce and Dick have been worrying about it, Tim knows, especially because Jason usually cares a lot about school, but Tim thinks it’s probably just teen angst, or whatever.

Everyone knows that fifteen-year-olds are assholes, and Jason’s never been the most responsible kid in the world, anyway. Besides, if Jason doesn’t want to hang out with Tim anymore, Tim doesn’t care. He isn’t going to embarrass himself by begging because Jason doesn’t want to spend time with his kid brother.

“What was that for?” Tim asks, not bothering to soften his tone.

“You’re thirteen, Tim, you shouldn’t be drinking.”

Tim rolls his eyes at the hypocrisy. He’s seen Jason sneak plenty of alcoholic drinks since he was younger than Tim is. Besides, it was only one measly glass.

Jason growls at Tim’s attitude, as if he doesn’t roll his eyes at dad all the time. “And even if you do want a drink, you don’t take anything that Sionis gives you, okay?”

“Why not? It’s dad’s champagne. It’s not like I need to pay him back or anything.”

Jason shakes Tim then, not particularly lightly, gripping his shoulder hard enough to bruise. “Because you don’t take drinks from people you don’t know, okay? _Especially_ not Sionis. You don’t know what that fucker’s done to it.”

Tim resists the urge to roll his eyes again. Jason’s always paranoid about shit like that. As if anyone would do something to Tim at a gala, with all these people around, in his dad’s house.

But Jason is looking at him with an intense, almost pleading expression on his face, and there’s something about him that tells Tim he’s deadly serious. Maybe it’s the painful grip on Tim’s shoulder, or the tension in his body, the way he looks like he’ll shake apart if Tim doesn’t just suck it up and agree with him.

“Okay,” Tim says, shrugging out of Jason’s grip. “I get it.”

Jason lets him go, but pins him with an intense look. “Just...don’t be alone with him, okay? Sionis is bad news, it’s better if you just stay away from him.”

Later, Tim will remember this conversation with a queasy sort of horror. Right now, Tim just nods, not giving it any thought beyond the brief annoyance he feels at Jason telling him what to do. Jason lets him go without any more of a lecture, but Tim can feel his eyes on him for the rest of the night, even though he doesn’t go anywhere near Sionis after that.

It’s a weird encounter, but mostly forgettable, until, two years later, Dick pulls him aside before his first proper business meeting with Wayne Enterprises - an in-person chat with the CEO of Janus Cosmetics.

He looks...well, he doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping well. Dick had moved out just a year after he’d turned eighteen, after an explosive argument with their dad about taking over the family business and Tim doesn’t think Bludhaven has particularly agreed with him in the years since. At first, Dick had come back to Gotham often, to spend time with his brothers even if he’d been mad at Bruce. Nowadays, though, Tim hardly sees him at all.

The fact that he’s even here today is a surprise.

Dick looks like he hasn’t slept a full night in a month. The dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. There’s a tight, pinched quality to his face that seems etched into him. Tim is a little surprised by how bad he looks.

“Listen, you need to be careful with Sionis, okay, Timmy?”

Tim blinks. He’s suddenly transported back to that gala, where Jason had said almost exactly the same thing a few years earlier. Something uncomfortable squirms in his gut.

“Why?” he asks, feeling a strange, hard lump in his throat. “What is so bad about Roman Sionis?”

Dick frowns and it would be a scowl on anyone else but on Dick it just looks concerned. “Just trust me, okay? You just need to watch your back around him.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, “Jason told me almost the exact same thing like, two years ago.”

Dick’s frown deepens. “Did he?” he asks and there’s a tightness to his voice that makes Tim want to squirm.

“Yeah, he did. Do you want to tell me what the problem with Sionis is, exactly?”

There’s a hollow look to Dick’s eyes. A strange blankness to his face.

“He’s just not a good guy, okay. Just be careful around him.”

Tim nods. It’s not like he’s going to be alone with Roman, anyway. Dad will be there and it’s not like he would ever let anything happen to Tim, so he doesn’t really need to be on guard, anyway. But he’s happy to humour Dick, if it will keep that awful look off his face.

It isn’t until another two years later, when Tim is seventeen and still not able to actually drink the champagne at the galas Bruce throws, that he truly thinks about either of the conversations he’d had with his brothers.

He catches sight of Roman, chatting away to Stephanie Brown, and a weird, queasy sense of dread washes over Tim. He remembers, then, the urgency in Jason’s voice, the hollowness in Dick’s eyes, and can’t stop himself from surging forward, gripping Steph’s arm and tugging her away with a tight smile aimed at Roman, exactly as Jason had done just four years ago.

She’s as blasé as Tim had been, back then, annoyed at Tim for his over-protective boyfriend act, confused about why he’s so adamant that Roman is bad news. Tim isn’t really sure himself, but he knows he can’t let her keep talking to Roman, not after his brothers had been so adamant that Tim be careful with him.

Later that night, Tim sneaks away to do some investigating. It’s surprisingly easy to hack into Roman’s personal network. Even easier to get access to his files of ‘evidence’. There are hundreds of photos and videos, each of young men and women, some in their twenties, some as young as ten, by Tim’s best guess.

He scans through them as quickly as he can, feeling his gorge rise with every disgusting photo, looking for something he prays he won’t find.

He comes across Dick first. There are photos: a twenty-something-year-old Dick, sprawled across black silk sheets, blue eyes wide and glazed, his face flushed. There’s a video too. Tim can’t stand to watch it for long, but even that much is enough. It’s clearly taken in Roman’s penthouse, from a camera set into the ceiling. From the angle, Tim can see Dick’s face, the hurt curve of his eyebrows, the glitter of his glazed eyes, the wet seam of his mouth. He can see the way the muscles of Roman’s back work as he thrusts into Dick’s body.

It’s clear, even from just the video footage, that Dick is intoxicated in some fashion. Drugs, Tim thinks, most likely. Probably slipped into a drink.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

It takes a little bit more searching to find Jason.

The Jason in the photos is clearly a lot younger. Most likely around fifteen, Tim would guess, based on the puppy fat still rounding out his face and the context he has. Jason’s sudden slide into rebellion, his surliness, the slip in his grades that had caused their dad so much grief, suddenly it all makes so much sense. Because the photos show that same Jason, bent over their father’s mahogany desk, his eyes as glazed as Dick’s had been.

There's a video of Jason, as well, clearly taken on a phone this time, but set up to show both Roman and Jason. It shows the same scene as the photos, a teenage Jason bent over their father’s desk, in the same office Bruce works in almost every day, his face pressed into the smooth wood, Roman’s hand broad against his hip. Tim thinks of Jason’s urgent warning, the way he had slapped that champagne glass straight out of Tim’s hand, the dismissive way Tim had thought nothing could happen to him in his own house, with people all around.

Which, in retrospect, was foolishly cocky, because clearly something had happened to Jason in their house, most likely at a party with hundreds of people around, when Jason had only been fifteen.

Tim feels like he might genuinely be sick.

Both of his brothers had been hurt by that bastard. And both of them had tried to stop the same from happening to Tim.

And they’d succeeded, though most likely through luck than any real understanding on Tim’s part. That hadn’t helped _them_ though, had it? Nothing can change the things Tim had seen on those videos.

Tim can make Roman pay though. The question is how.

He could turn this evidence into the police. There’s reams of data here - not just of Dick and Jason. And Jason isn’t the youngest kid Tim has seen.

But would that really be justice? Roman is rich. Smart. And Gotham cops are notoriously corrupt. Sure, child porn isn’t the easiest charge to get out of, but just turning him in doesn’t seem enough. Tim wants that bastard to suffer.

So Tim downloads what he can, including the photos and videos of his two older brothers, and bides his time. Mostly because he just isn’t sure what else to do. The moment he had decided not to just call the police Tim had chosen a different path.

His opportunity doesn’t take long to come, which Tim is grateful for. He doubts he could have sat on this information for long, lying to his brothers on a daily basis, watching them both struggle, knowing exactly why they’re acting the way they are. Suddenly, the last five years have taken on a new dimension in Tim’s head, and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like knowing what happened and not doing anything about it.

Then the perfect opportunity lands in his lap. Bruce has officially given him the full CEO position and Roman Sionis has requested a personal meeting and, honestly, Tim couldn’t have planned it better himself. He agrees to meet Roman at his office, alone, not-quite-eighteen, and hopes it will be enough for Roman to take the bait.

It is. The moment Tim walks in, Roman hands him a glass of whiskey, the same conspiratorial smile on his face as that first time he’d offered Tim champagne at a gala. Tim takes it, a plastic smile on his face. Subtly, he dips a pinky into the drink. The nail varnish is a new technology, but it works. If Roman is using any of the common drugs, it should turn black.

It takes a second, but it does. Tim pretends he doesn’t notice, taking a fake sip of his drink with his lips tightly sealed. Roman smiles, a sharp glint in his eyes that tells Tim he means trouble.

As if Tim didn’t already know that.

They talk business for about twenty minutes, before Tim decides it’s time he would normally start being affected. He can sense Roman watching him, the intent in his gaze, the heavy weight of his stare.

“What do you like to do for fun, Mr. Sionis?” Tim asks.

It clearly wrong-foots Roman, but the man only smiles, tightly.

“You know, this and that.” He inclines his head in Tim’s direction. “What about you?”

Tim swirls the drink in his glass and takes another sip, ensuring that none of the liquid passes his lips. “I like photography.” He smiles indulgently. “Pictures, you know?”

Roman nods, although he clearly doesn’t care. He is watching Tim intently, though, waiting for the drug to kick in. Tim smiles again.

“I heard that you’re a bit of a photographer yourself.”

Confusion writes itself plainly across Roman’s face. Without that stupid mask he sometimes wears, Roman is surprisingly expressive. Tim can sense both his anticipation and annoyance.

“I don’t know where you heard that,” Roman says, with a laugh. “It’s not true.”

Tim hums. He takes another fake sip, keeping it short so Roman doesn’t notice that none of the drink is actually gone. He runs a finger across the wood of Roman’s desk. It’s not the same one he’d raped Jason over, but it’s close. It’s clearly where he intends to fuck Tim.

“Well,” Tim says, “I tell a lie. I didn’t hear about it, per say. I did see some of your work though. It was...interesting.”

This time Roman is less confused and more annoyed. It’s clear he was expecting Tim to be over his desk by now. 

“You’ve got it wrong, kid. I don’t take pictures.”

Tim feels his expression sour. Roman _does_ take pictures. Tim has hundreds of them downloaded to his hard drive. Pictures of Roman and all the people he’s raped. Pictures of Tim’s brothers. Pictures of Tim, he’s sure, if he lets Roman get the better of him.

Except, Tim has the upper hand here.

“Oh but you do. I have some here, on my phone. Shall we take a look?”

“Look, kid-“

“What’s wrong?” Tim interrupts, before Roman can finish whatever bullshit he was about to spew. “Oh, sorry, were you expecting me to have passed out by now?”

Roman blanches. A complicated series of expressions crosses his face, before settling on bemused with a hint of annoyed.

“I don’t know what-“

“Yes, you do,” Tim says, evenly, “I’m afraid I haven’t actually been drinking that whiskey you gave me, though. You see, drugs just don’t agree with me.”

He slides his phone out of his jacket pocket as Roman splutters, thumbing through his photos to find one of the stills he’d saved from the video of Dick, Roman laying over him, Dick’s glazed blue eyes and pained expression visible over one broad shoulder.

Despite having seen it plenty of times before, Tim has to swallow against a surge of bile before he can speak. “Here,” he says, a little strangled, “this is one of my favourites.”

Then he turns his phone so Roman can see the screen.

At first, Roman doesn’t move, narrowed eyes fixed on Tim. Then, slowly, he leans forward and focuses on the image in front of him.

There’s very little reaction, beyond the slight widening of Roman’s eyes. Tim will admit he’s a little impressed. If he’d been confronted with evidence of himself doing something as terrible as this, he doubts he’d be able to stay quite so calm.

“Where did you get this?” Roman asks, voice surprisingly even.

“That’s not what’s important here,” Tim refutes.

“I disagree. This is private footage and I want to know where you got it.”

Tim laughs, high and a little strained. “What’s important here, is that I have footage of you assaulting Bruce Wayne’s eldest son.”

Roman scoffs, sitting back in his chair, as casual as if Tim isn’t accusing him of a brutal crime. “Assault? All I see is a _private_ photo of a perfectly consensual encounter.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Tim snaps, “I have the video too. Anyone with two fucking eyes can see he’s drugged.”

Roman shakes his head. “You can’t see shit on that video. You’ve got nothing.”

Stiffly, Tim draws his phone back and thumbs through to another photo. This one is of Jason, his youthful face clearly visible. This time, some of the panic shows in Roman’s expression.

“You can’t tell me this is consensual. How old is he, Roman? Fifteen?”

“You can’t prove-“

“I have more. Younger kids than Jason. I’d think carefully before whatever you say next.”

Roman is silent for a long moment. One hand rubs over his mouth pensively. Finally, he says, “What do you want?”

Tim grins, slipping his phone back into his pocket and leaning back. He runs a considering eye over Roman, contemplating his next move. Not that he needs to. Tim has had this planned out ever since he’d first laid eyes on those photos.

“I want you to do exactly as I say. If you don’t, the whole collection is going straight to the commissioner.”

Roman’s jaw tightens. The muscles of his arms flex, like he’s thinking about maybe hitting Tim.

“Uh-uh,” Tim says, “it’ll get sent unless I tell it not to. Anything happens to me, and you’re fucked.”

“Fine,” Roman says, stiffly, “just tell me what you want.”

Tim doesn’t answer right away. He’s had plenty of time to think about what he wants, but he can’t resist drawing out the moment of anticipation. He wants Roman to stew. He wants Roman to suffer.

“What did you have them do?” he finally asks. “My brothers? Tell me what you did to them.”

Roman laughs, a hard, bitter sound. “I’m sure you remember better than I do, kid. If you’ve really watched the videos. Your brothers were just two forgettable fucks for me.”

Tim swallows against the furious lump in his throat. “I suggest you think hard, then.”

Roman rolls his eyes. His lips twist into an ugly sneer. “If you insist,” he snarls. Then he shifts, leaning forward over the desk, a sharp glint in his eye as he leers at Tim. “I fucked the kid first. Gave him a dodgy glass of champagne and he was gone. Dragged him into your daddy’s office and fucked him over the desk. He cried like a little bitch the whole time.”

Tim swallows again, working hard to keep his face even. The last thing he wants is to let Roman know he’s affecting him. Tim can’t let his revulsion show.

“The other one didn’t get hit quite so hard. I found him in a bar, slipped one in his drink and took him home. I made him suck my cock before I fucked him. I would have done the same with the kid but I didn’t want to get thrown up on. He cried too, you know. Bunch of fucking pussies.”

Tim thinks about Dick’s hollow-eyed stare, the tension that had drawn his jaw tight when Tim had told him about Jason’s warning. He wonders if he could make Roman cry. Probably not.

But he can try.

“That’s enough,” Tim says, voice hard. “Come here.”

Roman hesitates. For a tense moment, Tim waits, wondering what Roman is going to decide. If he’ll make the right choice. Tim hopes he does, but if not, it’s not like Tim can’t still make him suffer.

Eventually, Roman stands, pushing his chair back and stalking around the desk. There’s no obvious concession to the fact that Tim is in charge here, but Tim doesn’t need it. If Roman wants to pretend he still has the upper hand, it doesn’t matter to him.

Tim turns his chair as Roman approaches him, and Roman stops at Tim’s knees, looming over him, a scowl darkening his face. Tim smirks.

“Get on your knees,” he orders.

Roman’s scowl deepens but, to Tim’s surprise, he drops heavily to a kneel without complaint. A strange little thrill sparks through Tim’s veins. There’s nothing Tim finds attractive about Roman, and even if there was, the memory of the man thrusting into his brothers on those terrible videos would have obliterated any attraction that remained, and, yet, Tim can feel his cock stirring, excited by the prospect of Roman on his knees. It’s not a pleasant picture, Roman sneering up at him, but the power is doing something to Tim. 

Maybe that says something unpleasant about him, but he doesn’t care. He’s under no illusion about what this means for him. But Roman deserves this. He deserves everything that’s coming to him.

“You know what to do, don’t you? I’m sure you’ve been on the receiving end enough times.”

Roman bares his teeth furiously. Tim reaches out and catches his chin in thin fingers, pressing his thumb hard into Roman’s bottom lip.

“No teeth, sweetheart,” Tim says, echoing the words he’d heard in that video of Dick.

And Roman either _does_ remember it well enough, or he’s just said that exact phrase enough times, because his eyes flash when he hears it. His lips twitch like he’s having to force himself to fold them back over his teeth. But he does. Another thrill of power rushes through Tim.

His cock is starting to fill out properly now, straining against the zipper of his pants. Tim slides the hand on Roman’s chin around to the back of his head and tugs him forward. With his other hand, he pops open the button of his pants and tugs the zipper down, fishing himself out of his boxers. 

The cool air against his cock makes him shiver. When Roman’s eyes land on the flushed pink head, he actually flinches, and Tim almost laughs. How many of Roman’s victims had felt exactly like this? How many of them had felt the fear and anger that Roman is feeling now?

Tim remembers the dazed look on Dick’s face when Roman had pulled his cock out in that video - the slow fear that had crawled across his expression. It has his fingers tightening hard enough that Roman grunts.

“Go on, then,” Tim orders, coldly. “Make it good for me.”

Roman snarls. “Little snake’s got a taste for power huh? Watched those videos and wished it was you, did you?”

Tim doesn’t deign that with a reply, just uses his grip to push Roman’s head closer to his lap. Roman’s eyes flicker up to meet Tim’s, bright with anger, before they drop back to his cock. At another squeeze of Tim’s fingers, his tongue finally slips out, lapping tentatively at the head of Tim’s dick.

Tim’s had blowjobs before - mostly from Steph, although he’s fooled around with Conner a few times, too. Both of them had been a thousand times better looking, a hundred times more enthusiastic. And yet, Tim can’t compare any of it to the arousal that punches through his gut at just that little touch of Roman’s tongue.

The intensity of the feeling leaves him shuddering. And he knows himself well enough to know it isn’t Roman that’s melting his gut like liquid metal. Roman is right. It’s the power. The thought of Roman underneath him, forced to do whatever Tim wants from him whether he likes it or not, helpless to do anything but bend to Tim’s will, it’s intoxicating. 

Tim isn’t sure if he likes that about himself. It’s no doubt exactly the same reason Roman had hurt all those people so terribly - the thrill of having someone so helpless beneath you.

Except, when Tim thinks of the young, glazed faces in those photographs, when he imagines Dick or Jason or any of those kids, small and helpless and hurting, he only feels bitter horror and revulsion rising up his throat and threatening to choke him.

Thank god.

Tim can live with himself as long as that’s still true. It isn’t just the power that’s getting to him. There’s no way Tim could hurt someone weaker than him, someone innocent, and get off on it. The important thing is that it’s _Roman_. That it’s the man who’d hurt his brothers for _fun_ and gotten away with it. The man who’s usually so in control. Who uses that control to hurt others.

It’s stripping that control away that appeals to Tim.

“I think you’re better off occupying your mouth with something other than talking,” Tim says, evenly. Then he uses his grip on Roman’s neck to force him even closer.

Like this, Roman has no option but to open his mouth and let the head of Tim’s cock slide in. Tim doesn’t give either of them a moment to adjust, because if he thinks about it too much, Tim is worried he’ll lose it before the real fun starts. Instead, he keeps on pushing, forcing his cock deeper, until it kisses the back of Roman’s throat.

Roman makes a nasty gagging sound, and Tim can feel the way his throat contracts. He starts to pull away, but Tim’s hand stops him. And Tim’s under no illusions about his own strength. If Roman truly fought him, there’s no way that Tim would win. But he stops at the pressure of Tim’s hand, bowing to his will.

Tim grins. Then he bucks his hips, pushing past the resistance Roman offers to slide right into his throat. Roman gags again. Dick had gagged, too, when Roman had done exactly this to him.

The thought mingles strangely with the arousal in Tim’s gut. He feels too hot. Flushed. He’s sweating under his suit. Roman’s mouth is slick with spit. It trickles into Tim’s public hair as he thrusts. Makes horrible wet, squelching noises as Tim works him over his cock.

Tim’s stomach feels like it’s full of hot coals. He has to stop, buried deep in Roman’s throat, and breathe deeply to try to ebb some of the feeling.

Roman blinks up at him. There’s spit shining at the corners of his mouth. His eyes are wet, although Tim is sure they’re reflexive tears rather than any true emotion on Roman’s part. It sends electricity shooting straight to Tim’s cock, either way.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Why am I doing all the work? You’ve got to put some effort in.”

Roman makes a muffled, protesting sound. But when Tim relaxes his grip a little, he doesn’t immediately pull away. When he does pull back, it’s only to the tip of Tim’s dick, where Roman swirls his tongue before plunging back down Tim’s length.

 _Fuck_. Who knew Roman Sionis could give a blowjob like this?

“How does it feel?” Tim pants. “To be in this position. Do you think you deserve it?”

Roman’s face shutters. Then he lifts his gaze to glare at Tim. Tim reapplies pressure to his neck.

“Wait,” he says, breathlessly. “It’s not quite a faithful recreation yet.”

With his free hand, Tim fumbles for his phone. Once he’s retrieved it, he opens the camera app, sliding the setting to video and pressing record.

“Go on then. Your audience is watching.”

Tim can feel Roman’s heavy swallow. The anger on his face only ramps Tim up further. Something about the camera is getting him off, too - knowing that this moment will be captured forever, that this is something that is actually happening, and now he has proof of it - it all winds low in Tim’s gut. He only lets Roman bob his head for a little longer - as long as Tim can stand - before Tim grips the back of his neck and thrusts up frantically into that tight, slick heat.

Roman shuts his eyes, clearly anticipating what’s coming. Tim jerks hard against Roman’s face and his orgasm rises like a tidal wave, crests, then crashes through him. Tim’s cock twitches deep in Roman’s throat, then he unloads his balls far enough that Roman has no choice but to swallow, before pulling back, dragging his cock over Roman’s tongue and painting the final few stripes of his release across Roman’s lips and cheek.

Tim slumps. Roman pulls away, turning his head, but Tim keeps his hand on the back of his neck to keep him from doing anything stupid, like standing up or trying to pull away too far. He can feel the heave of Roman’s chest, the hot puff of his breath. His own breath is coming fast and hard.

And Tim isn’t finished yet.

When he finally feels like he isn’t going to shake apart, Tim stands, tugging Roman with him by the back of his neck. Standing, Tim is shorter than Roman by a good amount, something that would normally put him at a disadvantage. Right now, though, it doesn’t matter how far Roman looms above him. It was Tim who just had his cock in Roman’s throat, after all.

“Bend over the desk,” Tim orders.

Roman throws him a glare that feels like a physical thing. Tim shrugs it off easily. 

“Does daddy know he’s raised a little psychopath?”

“Glass houses, Roman,” Tim snipes back. Unlike Roman, he isn’t just doing this for fun. This is payback. Justice.

Roman keeps glaring, but he moves stiffly to the desk and bends over it. Tim steps up behind him, resting one hand on the small of his back, mirroring the way Roman had touched Jason in that video.

He’s still soft from his explosive orgasm, and he doubts he’ll be getting hard enough to actually use his cock _that_ quickly. But Tim doesn’t need to. He has something more poetic in mind.

His fingers tremble a little as he fumbles Roman’s belt open and tugs his trousers down. It’s a little awkward with the phone still in one hand, too, but he manages it. Roman grunts when the cool air brushes over his ass. Tim leans over him and closes fingers around the smooth neck of the bottle of whiskey.

“How does it feel to be the one bent over the desk, for once?”

“Just peachy,” Roman growls.

Tim can feel the tension in his muscles through the material of his suit. He grins. Then he straightens, bringing the bottle of whiskey with him.

“A champagne bottle would be more ironic, I think, but we’ll have to make do.”

He shifts the phone, to make sure he has a good angle for the video, before pressing the cap of the bottle between Roman’s cheeks. Roman goes as stiff as a board, his whole body practically vibrating.

“No way,” he snarls, starting to push himself up off of the desk. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

Tim presses him back down and is surprised that Roman lets him. “I am,” he says, firm.

Then he readjusts, before pushing the bottle into Roman’s ass.

There’s resistance at first, Roman’s body tense and fighting hard to keep him out. Tim props the phone up on the desk and presses a finger of his free hand into the furled muscle of Roman’s hole. It’s tight and dry and hot and Tim feels warmth burn through his chest. Not arousal, exactly, but something close.

He hooks the finger up and Roman grunts and the bottle forces its way into the gap created. After that, it just takes steady pressure to force the bottle deeper.

Roman makes a soft noise of pain, then swears furiously. Tim drags the bottle out to the cap, then rams it back in, uncaring for the way Roman’s flesh splits around the unyielding surface.

“Did Jason bleed?” Tim asks, and his voice sounds strange and far away, even to him. “When you fucked him like this?”

Roman groans out an agonised sound. Tim shivers. Commits the noise to memory.

“Bitch was…was wet as fuck for me. Surprised - _uh_ \- surprised he could walk the next day.”

Tim’s stomach twists. He shoves the bottle in harder and Roman chokes. Tim keeps pushing, even as Roman swears and tries to push himself upright again, one hand pressed hard over Roman’s lower back, pinning him to the wood.

Then, abruptly, Tim steps back. He lets go of the bottle as he does and, for a moment, it hangs heavy between Roman’s legs. Tim stares at it, his chest heaving, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Then the weight of the bottle drags it out of Roman and sends it clattering to the ground. It doesn’t smash like Tim half-expects it too. It rolls a little, before bumping up against Tim’s chair. Blood shines on the neck.

Roman groans again. Tim leans past him and snatches his phone up, before skittering away towards the door of Roman’s office. The reality of what he’s done seems to finally set in, then. 

Tim had raped Roman. He’d _raped_ Roman Sionis.

The thought sends both cold horror and a strange pride through him.

“Are you finished?” Roman asks, stiffly, from where he’s still lying over the desk.

Tim takes a steadying breath. His grip on his phone is tight enough to hurt. “For now.”

He does his own fly up with shaking fingers, then gropes behind him for the door handle. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, though, Roman.”

Finally, Tim manages to get the door open. He doesn’t bother waiting for Roman’s answer, just slips out. When he’s far enough away, he stops to lean against a wall, breathing deeply to dispel some of the adrenaline rushing through his veins, before checking his phone.

The video is there, saved alongside the photos he’d shown to Roman.

Tim’s heart jumps in his chest. He needs to get somewhere private and review it properly.

Originally, the plan had been to send Roman’s stash over to the commissioner, whether he had complied or not, but...well, it seems like such a waste to lose his bargaining chip, and would Dick and Jason want those images to be seen by anyone else, anyway? Neither of them had ever reported what happened, after all.

No. Tim will hold on to them for now. He can always alert the police later.

Roman can stand to suffer a bit more, first.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr at [bearly-writing](https://bearly-writing.tumblr.com/) if you fancy dropping by for a chat!


End file.
